


Consequences of Supervisory Absence

by Nevanna



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Codependency, Other, Psychic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21841135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: After escaping captivity by another vampire clan, Jon reunites with his thralls.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker
Comments: 14
Kudos: 186
Collections: The_Magnusquerade





	Consequences of Supervisory Absence

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet was inspired by a particular scene in NevillesGran's excellent (and horrifying) [Training and Development](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21762490), but if you're at all familiar with this AU, all you need to know is that, when Jon was kidnapped by the Stranger cult, Martin and Tim's dependency on their blood bond took its toll on their health.

Martin had picked up one of the documents as a reflex, knowing that he probably wouldn’t be able to understand or focus on it, but he put it back on his desk when his hands shook so badly that he nearly tore it in half. That’s when something grazed his awareness, like a hand stroking his hair before he was fully awake. For the first time in days, he felt strong enough to sit up a little bit, his eyes swinging immediately toward the door.

“He’s not here,” Tim ground out. He’d swayed on his feet, walking into the Archives, and – like Martin – had ended up at his desk more out of habit than because either of them expected to get any work done. When he raised his head, which had drooped toward his chest again, his usually perfectly styled hair hung over his sweaty forehead.

“You must have noticed it too.”

“Noticed what? You putting your head up like a dog ’cause you think Jon’s nearby? Yeah, every day for the past five years.”

“Why’re you _doing_ that?” Martin snapped. Had they argued about this before? It was so hard to remember when he was so shaky and queasy and thirsty, thirsty, _thirsty_. “You pretend the connection’s not even there.”

“Oh, _I’m_ pretending, am I?” Tim sneered. “I’m probably the only one who understands the shit situation we’re in, that we’ve been left to…”

The door opened, cutting him off.

Jon didn’t exactly look his best, either: his skin was a little more tightly drawn around the bones of his face, and there was a hungry red sheen to his eyes. Martin pushed back his chair and staggered forward, and when their arms went around each other, he knew without conscious thought, in his blood and in his marrow, how to restore and sustain his master. He made sure to expose his neck, to give Jon what he needed, as much as he needed.

But Jon pulled away after a moment, although he still held Martin at arm’s length. The firm grip of his hands and the lighter brush of his mind ( _hush, not yet, you’re so good, just wait for now_ ) made Martin’s knees wobble again. “I am so sorry,” Jon was saying. “Another clan got hold of me.” A flare of anger, an image of faces like leering carnival masks, splashed across Martin’s thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tim push himself to his feet and approach them. “I’ll tell you everything, after you’ve… when we’re all feeling better.”

Jon’s fangs slid free as he released his hold, and he pierced one of his own wrists, then the other. And then Martin was drinking from him, and that blood was water in the desert, the first mouthfuls of air after a near-drowning, sweet and rich and miraculously energizing. Martin barely noticed as Tim seized Jon’s other hand; his mind was filled with devotion and gratitude, open to Jon’s perusal of what those weeks had been like for them, and wrapped in a warm blanket of _you held on, I’m so proud of you both, I’m going to take care of you._

When Jon pulled his hands back, carefully, Tim had mostly recovered his familiar self-assured posture, and Martin felt strong enough to lift and spin him around, to dance through the Archives, to singlehandedly take on the clan that had taken Jon away and threatened him…

“They held me for such a long time,” Jon said, his voice wavering, “without letting me feed. I’ll need to take some blood from each of you.” Martin expected a snarky retort from Tim, but when he glanced over, Tim was the first to tilt back his head, eyes closed, his face filled with complete trust.

There would be time to wonder at that later, because Jon was _here_ , and everything was _right_ , and it was their place to help him, as it always had been.


End file.
